<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>the heights of my creation by kimaracretak</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784202">the heights of my creation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak'>kimaracretak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Nikita (TV 2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arousal From Killing, F/F, Hair stroking, Murder is Fun Sometimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:29:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,593</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She had been thrilled at the opportunity to get out for the night - and, more specifically, to get out with Amanda - but even before the speeches had started she had been bored. And there was still at least an hour before she was scheduled to kill the Lieutenant Governor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amanda Collins/Nikita Mears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), When Death Loves Flamingos</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the heights of my creation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts">thedevilchicken</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nikita starts fading by the third speech, the rich charity gala food and dim sparkling lights making her eyes droop as the night drags on. She had been thrilled at the opportunity to get out for the night - and, more specifically, to get out with Amanda - but even before the speeches had started she had been bored. And there was still at least an hour before she was scheduled to kill the Lieutenant Governor.</p><p>"Nikita." Amanda's low voice sounds in her earpiece, just as clear as if she were sitting right next to her. Nikita flinches, sits up straighter. Resists the urge to reach up to her earpiece as if it would bring Amanda closer to her. "Slouching is going to ruin your dress."</p><p>Nikita frowns, glancing down the long table towards the door Amanda had lead her through, wondering where she was watching from. "Don't look at me," Amanda says. "You have a dinner companion to be making an alibi of."</p><p>Nikita eyes the foundation director sitting next to her doubtfully. A day ago, she had been burning with pride that she'd memorised all of the woman's biography that Amanda had given her and even found some new information about one of the woman's old boyfriends. None of that had prepared her for how boring she would be to talk to in person, necessary alibi or no.</p><p>"I know talking isn't one of your strong suits, that's why I'm making you do this now," Amanda says, as if Nikita's hair clip is a mindreader rather than a camera. "I'm not going to feed you answers, but if you behave and succeed, I might tell you what we're going to do later tonight."</p><p>Nikita bites her lip so hard trying not to say anything in response that she tastes blood.</p><p>It improves the soup, if she's being honest. </p><p>**</p><p>The Chief of Police has just sat down when Amanda gives her the five minute warning. It's redundant, really, Nikita knows the schedule just as well as she does: the three minutes for the servers to clear plates and refresh wine glasses, the minute for the Lieutenant Governor to make her way to the podium, the minute for him to begin speaking before his dramatic collapse. But she can't complain about getting to hear Amanda's voice, all mingled pride and anticipation curling warm around her, making her feel like she can do anything.</p><p>Jonathan gives no sign of recognition as he sets a new glass down in front of her, and Nikita returns the favour by not meeting his eyes as she runs the tip of one gloved finger around the rim. "Take it back, please," she says, as frostily as she can. "The glass is dirty."</p><p>He mumurs an apology, picking the offending glass up by its stem and retreating. "Good," Amanda murmurs in her ear. "Just remember not to touch anything besides the Lieutenant Governor's hand."</p><p>Nikita makes direct eye contact with one of the hacked surveillance cameras in the corner of the room and uses her clean-gloved hand to brush her curling bangs back from her face.</p><p>"Very funny," Amanda says dryly, but Nikita knows as long as she's still talking, she isn't really mad. "The difficult part, now."</p><p>Privately, Nikita thinks the talking is the difficult part - no matter how many mock dinners Amanda dressed her up and sat her down for, the real things were always more tedious than imaginable. Shaking a hand, switching a pair of gloves, feigning horror at a corpse - that she could manage.</p><p>Nikita looks down at her hands and frowns, as if she's just noticed an imperfection. "Excuse me," she says to the woman next to her. "I think whatever was on the glass has soiled my gloves."</p><p>The woman nods absently, more interested in the banker-turned-philanthropist across the table. Nikita gets up carefully, pushing back from the table with just her legs, rearranging her green silk skirt with her clean hand.</p><p>Two and a half minutes. She makes her way around the right side of the crowd forming around the Lieutenant Governor, to cut down on the chances of any of them coming into contact with the contaminated glove. She brushes past his right hand as soon as he breaks through one group of well-wishers, the nerve toxin dissolving against his skin, looking up in mock surprise and tightening her grasp into a purposeful handshake as soon as she pretends to realise who he is.</p><p>"Lieutenant Governor," Nikita says with a smile. "Best of luck."</p><p>He mutters something in response, but Nikita's already gone, heading towards where Carolina, the last member of the night's team, is standing with a large serving towel draped over her arm.</p><p>"Your colleague ruined these," Nikita says, stripping the gloves off, right hand first and turning them inside-out as she does so. "Get rid of them, and bring me a new pair from the coatroom."</p><p>Carolina bundles the gloves up in the towel and heads off, leaving Nikita free to lean against the wall in her place, eyes fixed on the podium and resolutely ignoring Amanda saying, "What did I tell you about ruining the dress?"</p><p>Nikita glances around quickly, ensuring she's out of earshot of anyone else, and whispers, "Why do you care, anyway? You're just going to rip it off me later tonight."</p><p>A pause, as if Amanda hadn't expected her to say anything at all, and then she laughs. "Don't be silly, dear, I bought you that to keep. I'm taking it off you nicely, if at all."</p><p>If they had more privacy Nikita would whine about that, just to see what other promises she could draw from Amanda, but a round of applause draws her attention back to the front of the ballroom as the Lieutenant Governor ascends the small set of stairs on the dais. "Your kill, Nikita," Amanda says, lethal triumph underlying each word. "Take ten minutes to enjoy it, and then meet me in the ladies' room."</p><p>Carolina returns at the same time, slipping Nikita a pair of gloves identical to her previous ones, and together they settle in for the show.</p><p>**</p><p>Up against the wall in the opulent bathroom, dismantled earpiece in her clutch and Amanda's hands under her skirt, Nikita can't remember why she'd ever wanted to be anywhere else. The marble wall is cool against her bare back, a delicious contrast to the heat of Amanda's hands roaming across her thighs. Amanda's mouth is pressed against her throat, and Nikita brings both hands up to tangle in the long, silken fall of her hair and hold her there.</p><p>Amanda's only reaction is to bite down against her pulse point, a sharp perfect sting that goes straight between her legs. And Amanda notices, too, dragging a lazy swipe over Nikita's soaking underwear and smirking against the curve of her throat. "I like you like this," she murmurs. "But I think I like how in love with it you are even more."</p><p>"Because of you," Nikita gasps as Amanda dips her tongue into the hollow of her throat. "You did this for me. To me." She isn't sure which one she means - isn't sure she cares whether both or either are true, and Amanda doesn't offer any clarification. Just closes her lips around the thin skin over her collarbone and sucks hard enough to bruise.</p><p>Nikita sighs happily, eyes falling shut as Amanda's hand curves over her hip, urging her a little further away from the wall. "Spread your legs," she orders, and Nikita obeys immediately. "Good," Amanda murmurs approvingly, palming Nikita's cunt roughly through her panties. The motion drags Nikita's already wrinkling skirt further up her thighs, and she laughs.</p><p>"Thought you were going to take the dress off me nicely," she manages around trying to remember how to breathe.</p><p>"I was," Amanda says, and when Nikita looks down, all she can see is Amanda's hair tangled in her fist, the most intoxicating thing she's ever seen. "And then you walked in here so victorious, so hungry, so irresistible..."</p><p>Nikita can feel herself growing wetter with every word, knows Amanda feels it too, her fingers still light around the edges of Nikita's panties but circling ever closer to where they both want her. "Amanda," she whispers. Strokes her hand down through her hair and listens to Amanda hum in pleasure, leaning into Nikita's touch as she presses lightly over her clit. Nikita moans at the touch, thighs tensing with the effort of  not grinding down against Amanda's leg. "Amanda, what if someone -"</p><p>"Jonathan and I took care of it, don't worry." And Amanda's hand finally dips under the fabric, almost unbearably gentle as she strokes over Nikita's bare skin, chasing away any thought Nikita might have had of asking how they'd taken care of it. "Oh, look at you. I should have put you in front of the mirror, you should see how lovely you are."</p><p>"Please do," Nikita says, breathless as Amanda's fingers slip inside her, a slow rhythm that matches the pace of Nikita's hand through her hair. It's still going to make her come in no time at all, Amanda knows her body too well, knows what it does to Nikita when they're pressed so close together that she's the only thing Nikita can see, hear, <em>feel</em>.</p><p>"Of course," Amanda promises. Curls her fingers inside Nikita, pulls her mouth away from Nikita's throat just long enough to kiss her deep and hard. "Soon, dear, I promise."</p><p>And Nikita believes her, because it's impossible to do anything else.  </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>